It is a Conversation I Cannot Have Tonight
by Luckynumber28
Summary: Thranduil, the Elvenking of the Greenwood, and the youngest daughter of Elrond as they find themselves having a familiar conversation. Inspired by the song "No Light, No Light" by Florence and the Machine, one shot Thranduil/OC


_You can choose what stays and what fades away_  
_And I'd do anything to make you stay_  
_~ Florence and the Machine, "No Light, No Light" ~_

The balcony overlooked the wide woodland, high in the upper chambers of the Great Halls of Greenwood. Glassada thoughtfully trailed her fingertips down the smooth stone of the railing. She soon felt another presence approach where she stood in the fading, violet light. Lightly resting a hand over her heart, she tried to not glance over at Thranduil. The ageless and volatile King of the woodland calmly took his place beside her.

"My lady, you were invited here as a guest in my halls." He spoke quietly, his voice veiling deeper emotion.

As he glanced over at her with cold disdain, she tried to keep her breath steady under his timeless gaze. Though she was the youngest child of the Lord Elrond, she was not beyond the reproach of this Sindarin elf, the greatest of his kin.

"Your behavior at our meal was not befitting an elf of your standing." His voice rolled over her as smoothly as the clouds down the peaks of the western mountains.

She dared look over at him, "I am unwed in the eyes of the court, my King. If the respected and trusted hand of Celeborn of Lothlorien wishes to seek my attentions and a seat by me, do I not have the right?"

She lifted a brow in silent challenge. Thranduil's hand shot out clasping her neck gently. His fingers trailed back to her nape, tangling themselves in the dark strands wound above her shoulders. Glassada's breath caught in her throat as the ancient Elvenking closed the space between them.

"I do not see it appropriate, my Lady." He breathed, his blue eyes cold and flashing as blue quartz.

He tugged one of the ivy leaves free that had been woven into the intricate braiding at the crown of her head. Idly twirling it in his fingers for a moment, he let it fall to the tree tops below. He moved away, his hands at his back.

"What do you see as appropriate, sire?" She found herself demanding, turning towards him.

The golden flare of the dying sun caught the light in his long, fair hair mimicking the silmarils of old.

"How do you mean such a statement, Glassada?"

"I mean it by your intentions toward me." She approached boldly, circling him, "The years of silence can hardly be what you call appropriate."

Thranduil took a step forward, towering over her. He lifted a finger heavy with a signet ring, tipping her chin back.

"My Lady, you agreed to this as swiftly as I did."

She gasped lightly as he grasped her waist, "I was too young."

"Not so young as to be innocent to the consequences of your decisions." He replied, his voice becoming heated.

"Thranduil," She breathed, his grip on her tightening at the sound of his name from her mouth, "I cannot continue in this clandestine tryst."

"Glassada, for us to become mated publicly would cause more complications than necessary." He reasoned gently, trailing a finger over her trembling lips.

"Your lady queen has been passed for many years." She shivered under his touch.

"But my sons are from our union." He pulled her hair loose, letting it fall over her shoulders, "Glassada, I am faithful to you in my heart and body. You are my wife. We spoke vows."

"In secret. No one knows that I am yours, my King. Not even my family."

"But that does not make you any less mine." He took her mouth with his in a manner that was fiercely possessive. He pulled away abruptly, eyeing her with satisfaction as she fought to regain composure, "No elf of the white wood will come between me and what I love."

As he closed his lips over her own once more, Glassada wrapped her hands around his neck.

"I cannot agree with you," She managed to gasp, "I am yours none the less, my King."

The ancient elf lifted her into his arms, passing through the sheer curtains to the bed they had called their own for the years of their secret marriage. Thranduil had made frequent invitations to Imladris for Glassada and her brothers to visit the woodland realm. So far their affair had remained a well-guarded secret.

"You are still as beautiful as the first time I saw you," Thranduil reminisced as they lay tangled in the sheets, dawn threatening the sky outside.

He trailed long, elegant fingers down her torso where he was propped on his arm. Glassada caught his fingers in hers, kissing it and holding them close to her heart.

"After years on this Middle Earth, I felt the ache of time." His gaze was warm in a way she had only seen when he looked at her as they lay together, "You are everything new and lovely. Glassada, you are the reason I remain here."

"The time is coming soon when my father will ask me to leave for the undying lands." She mused, broaching a conversation they had often had, "Will you come with me, Thranduil?"

His eyes became distant at the question that had been asked so often, "I cannot be without you, my love, but these are dark times. The light of our people is fading quickly from this land."

"We could be together." She sat up, tucking herself to fit the concaves of his body, "Without the pressure of your crown."

"I cannot leave my people now." He rested a hand on her white shoulder, "Not when the enemy has such a hold on the Greenwood."

Glassada bit her lip and looked away, "I had not wanted to tell you. My father has requested sooner than later that I leave. Arwen is still refusing to go but I have no excuse. At least one of which he is aware."

Thranduil's dark brow furrowed at this revelation. She lifted a hand, wishing she could brush away his concerns as easily as an errant strand of golden hair.

"So you see the choice lays before you, dearest." She murmured, resting her head under his chin, "There is a day coming when you must call me your Queen or watch me take the boat into the west without you."

"For now, let the dawn come." Thranduil replied gravely, gently kissing the top of her head.

* * *

**Author's Note: Just clarifying, the part where Thranduil mentions the hand of Celeborn seeking Glassada's attentions, "the hand" I meant to be an actual individual, like the right hand man of Celeborn, and not Celeborn himself. I had a reviewer questioning whether Glassada's grandfather was hitting on her and I was like "Nooooooo no no no, weird" haha anyway, just wanted to make sure that was understood.**

**Animalfeelings: Thank you thank you thank you! (: I'm so glad you enjoyed it! Your review was too sweet. It was a fun one to write.**


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